


Malcolm Hunts the Dragon

by Glory1863



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Family Relationships - Freeform, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:38:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glory1863/pseuds/Glory1863
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At one time, Malcolm Reed loved the water and wasn't afraid of drowning.  As one time, Malcolm and Stuart Reed had a loving relationship.  At one time, Malcolm was a little boy who wanted to see a dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malcolm Hunts the Dragon

Stuart Reed, dressed in the crisp white summer uniform of a captain in the Royal Navy, stood at the end of the gangplank leading down from his ship, _HMS Victorious,_ and smiled indulgently at the small child wearing a sailor suit who ran toward him, arms outstretched, calling, “Daddy!  Daddy!” 

Was this really his son Malcolm?  While still small for his age, Malcolm had grown quite a bit in the 9 months his father had been at sea.  Stuart reached down, swung the child up and enfolded him in a great bear hug.  “How’s my boy?”  He felt thin legs wrap around his middle and thin arms go about his neck.  There was an almost shy kiss on his cheek and a child’s voice, quiet now, “I’m fine now that you’re home, Daddy.  I missed you!” 

Stuart Reed would have loved to have ruffled the thick, dark hair that peeked out from under the sailor’s cap with the blue ribbon bearing gilt letters that spelled out the name of his ship, but he knew Mary had so many pins and clips anchoring the hat that he would have to mount a major expedition to find and remove them all, so he let Malcolm burrow his head into his shoulder instead and contented himself with rubbing a hand along his son’s back.

“Don’t tell me this great strapping lad is the wee Malcolm who waved goodbye to us from his mum’s arms when we last sailed?”  The unmistakable Scots bur belonged to Commander Alistair Fraser, the executive officer of the _Victorious_. 

Malcolm raised his head.  His blue-gray eyes were alight with recognition, and there was a small half-smile on his lips.  “Hello, Mr. Fraser.  Welcome home!”  One arm disengaged from his father’s neck, and a small hand was offered to Fraser who accepted it as gravely as if it had belonged to the First Sea Lord.

“Why, thank you, Malcolm.  It’s good to be home." 

Fraser tilted his head and gave Malcolm an appraising look.  "How old are you now, lad?”

“I’m five.”  Malcolm held up his hand, fingers spread wide apart so Fraser could see just how many that was.

“Already?  Why, he could ship out with us on our next cruise, sir.  He has all the makings of a fine powder monkey.”  Fraser was pleased to see Malcolm’s smile grow.

“He did rather fancy the salute you fired off last Guy Fawkes day, didn’t he?” Stuart Reed chuckled.  “I doubt I could talk Mary into it, though, at least for a few years yet.  She has her heart set on him becoming an officer like his old man.”

“Quite right, too, a bright boy like him.” 

Fraser smiled as he saw the blush color Malcolm’s pale cheeks.  “Sorry, lad.  I did my best, but I guess you’ll have to wait until you’re old enough to sign on as a midshipman.  Of course, by then, your father will probably be Admiral of the Fleet.  Perhaps he’ll leave _Victorious_ to me.  The _Victoriouses_ are a rowdy lot, though, if there’s not a Reed on the bridge to keep them in line.  Can I count on your help, Malcolm?  Should I save you a berth?”

Malcolm’s eyes were wide with pleasure and excitement.  “Oh, yes, please!” he answered. 

After a moment, however, the little boy became quite serious as he turned to his father.  “When I’m big, may I go to sea with Mr. Fraser, sir?” 

“If he’ll still have you son, then yes.  There’s no one better.”

Now it was Fraser’s turn to blush, though on his sun and wind-bronzed face it was hard to tell.  “Most kind, sir.  Thank you.”  To further hide his embarrassment at the compliment, he picked up the case Stuart Reed had put down to pick up his son.  “Let me take this for you, sir.  You seem to have your hands full at the moment.  I’ll just go on ahead and make sure everything is ship-shape on the skimmer.  I’m sure your lady is anxious to welcome you home.  It won’t do to keep her waiting.”  Fraser moved off.  He wished a cheery “good morning, ma’am” to Mary Reed but didn’t tarry.

Stuart Reed, Malcolm still in his arms, walked down the quay to his wife who greeted him with a demure hug and chaste kiss, behavior befitting an officer’s wife and a Reed.  Stuart would get a right proper welcome home later tonight in the privacy of their room at “The Golden Hind”, the bed and breakfast inn owned by Commander Fraser’s parents. 

\--- 

Malcolm’s eyes were wide as he took in the wild scenery on either side of the road down from Inverness.  He was too excited to chafe at being carefully restrained in his child safety seat in the back of the vehicle.  “Mr. Fraser, did you ever see the monster?”

“Not I, lad,” Fraser replied.  Seeing the disappointment on Malcolm’s face, he continued, “My dad’s the one you should ask.  He’s seen the old gal many a time.  He’ll be glad for the excuse to tell all those old stories again and to have an interested audience.”  He was pleased to see Malcolm’s face light up again.

“Do you think she’s a dragon like Puff in the song?  I’d love to see a real live dragon!”  Malcolm happily chattered on.  “Daddy told me that on real old maps it says ‘here there be dragons’ in the parts of the ocean nobody had sailed on yet.  Daddy goes there now, but he never sees dragons, either.  He always tells me that they must have been taking a nap.”  With this last, Malcolm frowned in his father’s direction.  It was an indication of what he thought of the excuse as well as what he thought of naps.  It took a great deal of the famed Reed reserve to keep both Stuart and Mary from bursting out in laughter. 

“I’m not sure Nessie’s a dragon, Malcolm.  Don’t dragons have wings?  Don’t they fly about and breathe fire?  I’ve not heard tell, even in my dad’s stories, that the old gal carries on that way.”  Again, Fraser saw disappointment on the small boy’s pale face.  “Ah, what do I know?  That one values her privacy, she does.  Who knows what goes on in the dark of night with nobody watching?”

This response seemed to mollify Malcolm.  “Mr. Fraser, will your father tell Daddy where he saw Nessie so he can take me sailing there?”  Malcolm thought for a moment.  “It’s not a secret, is it?” 

“Well now, even if it were, I expect he’d make an exception for you and your father.  Do you know, Malcolm, that long ago, before you were born and before my dad took to hiring out boats on the loch, your father and mine served together on the old _Invincible_?”  Seeing Malcolm’s inquisitive look, Fraser continued, “Your father was only a lieutenant then, not long out of the Royal Naval College, and the gunnery control officer.  My dad was one of his gunner’s mates.”

“Evan Fraser taught me more about gunnery specifically and ordnance in general than all those damn classes down at Greenwich put together,” Stuart Reed growled.

“Stuart, language!  There’s a child present,” Mary Reed admonished her husband. 

“And a lady, too, sir,” Fraser added as they turned onto the lane that would bring them to “The Golden Hind.”  He couldn’t help but wonder what the very proper Mrs. Reed would have thought of the impressive string of curses with which her normally calm and impassive husband had let loose when that Japanese freighter, the _Kobayashi Maru,_ had blundered into the live fire zone during fleet maneuvers and taken a plasma bolt to the forward cargo hold.  Alistair Fraser came from a family that had served below decks since the time of Nelson, but even so, on that day, his captain had used oaths he’d never heard before. 

As they approached the end of the tree-lined lane, Malcolm caught sight of a large, old, rambling, 2-storied, stone house.  “Mr. Fraser, you live in a castle!”  His voice was filled with awe.

“Not quite, lad.  No turrets, no drawbridge and no moat.”  To forestall any disappointment, he quickly added, “But there is a secret passage or two.  I’ll give you the grand tour when we get inside.” He was pleased to see that Malcolm’s smile didn’t dim.

He was surprised, though, when the little boy said quite seriously, “But they’re not secret anymore if you know about them.”  He was about to laugh in agreement when Mary Reed spoke up.

“Malcolm, they are still secret to you and are likely to remain so if you give Mr. Fraser any more of your cheek.  He is on leave and I’m sure has better things to do than to entertain you.”

Malcolm seemed crushed by his mother’s reprimand, so Fraser sought to retrieve the situation.  “I’m sure he’ll be no trouble at all, ma’am.  There’s quite a bit for a young lad to do here after he’s found the secret passages.  There’s a proper maze in the garden that you might both enjoy.  Then there’s fishing, swimming, sailing with his father and, of course, hunting for Nessie.”  Fraser winked at Malcolm, but the child’s head was down.  He was staring at his hands which were neatly folded in his lap. 

“Do you like to go fishing, Malcolm?”  Fraser asked.

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm replied in a soft, hesitant voice.

“Bait your own hook?”

“Yes, sir.”  Malcolm seemed to be regaining his confidence.

“So slithery, slimy things don’t bother you?”

“No, sir.”  Fraser thought he detected just the slightest hint of a smile.  He winked at Malcolm again, and this time the child saw him.

“Well, there you have it, ma’am.  I think we can put young Master Malcolm to work.  Old Mr. Ferguson who runs the bait and tackle shop has been complaining for years that he needs an assistant for the morning worm hunt.  He digs them up, but it’s getting harder and harder for him to catch them before they crawl off and go to ground again.  It’s the rheumatism, you see.  Young Malcolm’s built much closer to the ground.  They won’t escape from you, will they, lad?”

“No, sir!”  Malcolm’s grin had returned.  “Please, Mum, may I help Mr. Ferguson with the worm hunt?  I’ll be good.  I promise.”

Mary Reed had the feeling that she had been maneuvered into saying “yes.”  The boy loved to play in the dirt and was always underfoot when she tried to work in her garden; at least this time he might actually be doing something useful, and she had had the foresight to pack some jeans and jumpers that he was about to outgrow, so they’d be no loss.  “All right, yes.  Just see to it that you are.  I’ll be inquiring of Mr. Ferguson, and I’d best not hear that you got into any mischief.”  Malcolm’s grin was once again a full-fledged smile.

By now, Stuart Reed had pulled up to the front door of the great stone house.  Fraser helped Malcolm out of the harness for his safety seat, and he and the Reed family got out of the vehicle and stretched.  It had been a long day.  “Go right on in, sir. . . ma’am.  It’s just about tea time.  I’ll see to these.”  He motioned toward the boot of the vehicle and the cases and bags that he knew it contained.

“Thank you, Alistair.”  Stuart turned to Mary and took her arm.  “Shall we, my dear?”  They headed toward the thick, red-painted, oaken door with the great brass knocker in the shape of a leaping deer, but Malcolm stayed behind.

“Mr. Fraser, I need to get Charlie.  He doesn’t like being in there by himself.”  Fraser had opened the boot and guessed immediately that “Charlie” was the large, oft repaired and obviously much loved Teddy bear sitting on top of Malcolm’s duffle bag.  He handed the stuffed toy to the little boy. 

“Charlie, this is Mr. Fraser.  He’s an officer just like Daddy, so you have to do what he says or he’ll put you in the brig for being naughty.  You won’t like it.  It’s just like that.”  Malcolm pointed to the boot of the vehicle as he earnestly explained the situation to the plush bear that was almost half his size.

Fraser smiled and threw the bear a sketchy salute.  “A pleasure to serve with you, sir.”

“Malcolm, come along now.  You need to wash up before tea,” his mother called from the doorway to the inn.

“Coming, Mum,” Malcolm called back.  Before running off, though, he brought the bear’s paw up to its forehead in salute.  “He’s pleased to meet you, too, sir,” he said to Fraser.

Fraser watched Malcolm scamper off holding Charlie tightly to his chest then began unloading the vehicle.  He remembered back to early that morning.  Promotion wasn’t the only reason for Stuart Reed to leave _HMS Victorious_ in his hands.  Reed was a very private man, but on a ship the size of _Victorious,_ it hadn’t taken long for officers and crew alike to learn why their captain was periodically absent from duty and the ship under the temporary command of the XO nor for the communications officer to dread the flimsies addressed to the captain that were marked “Urgent” and “Confidential” that he carried to the bridge from the communications room.

Young Malcolm Reed hadn’t had the most auspicious start in life.  His mother had been in an accident and had gone into premature labor such that her son had been born before his lungs were fully developed.  From what Fraser understood, Malcolm had been put on some sort of machine that supposedly mimicked conditions in the womb and would allow his lungs to grow and strengthen.  That made sense until he heard the part about the machine filling Malcolm’s lungs with some sort of liquid.  To a sailor, that just seemed wrong - too much like drowning.

Malcolm was a fighter, though, and against steep odds had survived that, but it wasn’t his only misfortune.  Fraser didn’t quite understand if the child’s immune system was overactive or underactive, only that it seemed as if he were allergic to the world.  The doctors had eventually found drugs that kept the problem in check - apparently he still had to have shots on a regular basis, the poor, wee thing -  but he’d been in and out of the hospital, on and off a ventilator and at death’s door many a time.  In the first two years of his son’s life, Stuart Reed had used up more compassionate leave than the rest of the crew put together.  Now, Alistair Fraser liked to think that he was a pretty tough guy, but he had to admit that he had a soft spot for his captain’s son and wanted nothing more than to see him healthy, active and happy.

\--- 

“Picture it in your mind, laddie.  It’s the crack of dawn with the sun just coming up over yon hills.  I’m in my boat in the middle of the loch doing a spot of fishing and hoping for some fine salmon just like we had for dinner.  I’m minding my own business, not being a bother to anyone, when all of a sudden I’m staring into two beady eyes that are staring right back at me!  Those eyes are in a head that’s on a neck that’s getting longer and longer by the minute.  It comes to me that what I took to be three piles of flotsam are actually humps on the back of this creature.  When the neck reaches it’s full height - I’d say about up to the bridge on your dad’s ship - the creature let’s out a great bellow.  Would like to wake the dead from here to Edinburgh.  Well now, Evan Fraser’s no fool, laddie.  I’m calling for emergency power, full speed ahead, but Nessie, she comes right after me.  She’s snapping at me with teeth nearly as big as my boat.  She could’ve swallowed me whole, so she could, and she was thrashing her great long tail.  A hit by that tail could set _Intrepid_ over on her beam so it could.  You’ve seen _Intrepid_ up at Scapa Flow, laddie?”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm answered with a hushed voice.  _HMS Intrepid_ was a huge ship and the pride of the Royal Navy.  He hoped that someday soon his father would be named its captain so he could come aboard and go exploring.   Could it be true that Nessie could knock _Intrepid_ over as if it were no more than a toy boat like the ones he played with in the bath at home?

“I didn’t want to look behind me on account that she might be gaining on me.  I could feel her hot breath on me and once or twice I thought I felt just the tip of her tongue on my back.”

“Evan Fraser, that’s enough.  You hear me?  You’ll give the poor lad nightmares.”

“Annie, darlin’, Malcolm here is a Reed.  He’s tough.  He can take it.”

“Tough or not, it **is** well past Malcolm’s bedtime Mr. Fraser,” Mary Reed explained.  “Malcolm, say good night to everyone.”

“Mum, I’m not scared.  Really, I’m not.”  He wasn’t anymore.  Not since the elder Mr. Fraser had reminded him that he was a Reed.  Everyone knew (Malcolm especially) that Reeds don’t run.  “I want to hear how Mr. Fraser got away from Nessie.  She didn’t catch him and eat him because he’s here.  Please?”  Malcolm said it all in a rather matter-of-fact manner.  Reeds don’t whine, either.

“I’ll make it fast, then.  See, I’d headed back to shore.  Now, Nessie, she doesn't like the shore.  Water’s too shallow and there’s too many people about.  So after a bit, she veered off.  I reckon my motor woke her up and I was poaching her breakfast.  She didn’t really mean any harm.  Just wanted to put me in me place is all.” 

Malcolm nodded his head solemnly.  It made perfect sense to him.  He didn’t like to be awakened from a sound sleep either, and he really didn’t like it when Trevor, the big boy who lived next door, took his piece of pineapple upside down cake.  Mum didn’t make it often, and it was his favorite.

The story was clearly over, and Malcolm knew what was expected of him.  “Thank you for the story, sir,” he said politely.  “I’m glad you got away from Nessie.  Good night.”

Evan Fraser laughed.  “Me too, lad.  G’night now.”

“Thank you for dinner, ma’am.  It was very good.  Good night,” Malcolm said to Anne Fraser.

“You’re welcome, love.  Sleep tight,” she answered as she rose to answer the bell rung by another of her guests.

“Good night, sir,” he said at last to Alistair Fraser.

“Good night, Malcolm,” he answered.  “It’s best you get a good, sound sleep tonight.  You’ll be both crew and exec for your father tomorrow.  He’s a good captain, but demanding.  He’ll expect nothing but the best from you.” 

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm said gravely.

“And you wouldn’t want to miss your chance to see Nessie because you’d had to go below to take a nap,” the younger Fraser added with a wink.

“No, sir!” Malcolm quickly and enthusiastically agreed.  He then ran over to his father, that stern, demanding captain and was immediately scooped up for a hug.

“Good night, Daddy.  I love you!”  Malcolm gave his father a quick kiss, scrambled off his lap and took his mother’s hand to go upstairs to his room where a great four-poster feather bed and his favorite stuffed bear awaited him.

As Malcolm climbed the stairs, he heard his father exclaim, “Good lord, Alistair, you make me sound as if I were Captain Bligh reincarnated.” 

“I rather thought you were, sir,” Fraser replied with an impudent grin.  “You’re the best dead reckoning navigator in the fleet if I may venture an opinion.  If you’d given me the sextant when the NAV system went out on maneuvers, we’d probably have gone aground somewhere in the Falklands.”

Through his laughter, Stuart Reed managed to say, “We were in the North Sea at the time, Alistair.”

“I believe I’ve made my case, sir,” Fraser answered, but he couldn’t maintain a straight face.

Malcolm didn’t understand the reference to the infamous Captain Bligh who had provoked mutiny twice, once on _HMS Bounty_ , the story almost everyone knows, and again as Governor of New South Wales, a story best known by the Australians.  What he did understand, even if he was too young to put a word to it, was the camaraderie between his father and his executive officer.  He knew that when he got big he would go to sea looking for that good feeling for himself.


End file.
